A Christmas of the Past
by Meow
Summary: This is a sad little fic about Matt's first Christmas after the divorce. . .it's real short, only like a page and a half. r+r!


As his dreams go flashing by  
He begins to hear  
A lonely lullaby  
Vertical Horizon - _Children's Lullaby_

  
  
A Christmas of the Past  
By [Meow][1]  
  
Matt curled up under the blankets as the wind blew harder against the cheap air conditioner that didn't even work. . .not that Matt and his father would be using it, since it was the middle of winter.  
  
Matt sighed and wiped his runny nose, and his skin felt warm to his own hands. "I'm sick," he muttered in a stuffed up voice. "I hate being sick." He sniffled again, then reached out to the floor beside the mattress and found his glass of water was empty. He sighed, and wished that his father was there to fill it up for him. Slowly, Matt trudged to his feet, then walked into the small kitchentte, barely tall enough to reach over the sink. The water came through haltingly, and Matt could almost feel tiny chunks ice on his hands as the water burst out suddenly. The glass was half full when the water stopped completely.  
  
Matt gave another childish sigh and walked back to the living room, the tap water tasting flat on his tounge but getting rid of the strange taste in his mouth. He set it down carefully and then laid down, kicking the blankets away.  
  
"I wish Mama were here," he said to himself. He remembered when he'd been sick a few months ago, right before kindergarden had started. She'd sat with him till he fell asleep on his nice, comfy bed, with his fluffy pillows and clean smelling blankets, with his hair neatly combed and his clothes nice and washed  
  
Mat, in typical boy spirit, usually didn't notice the cleanliness of things around him. But now Matt wanted nothing more than his mama and all her cleaness, all her shouting at him to clean his room and clean the living room tables, everything. He missed it.  
  
He even missed his clean smelling little brother. TK always smelled like baby powder when his mama would let him hold him. He would have to be so careful so he would drop the tiny form. Of course, now TK was too big to be held. But he was just getting to where he would hold Matt's hands as Matt helped him walk.  
  
Matt's bright blue eyes filled with tears. He missed TK. He even missed his dad, even though he saw him every day. It just wasn't fair.  
  
Matt rolled onto his belly, propping his chin on his pillow. The calendar had fallen off the wall once again. Matt looked at it for a moment, finding the twenty-fifth on it, today's date. Written in tiny letters were the words Christmas Day. Matt frowned. Why did the words Christmas Day sound familiar?  
  
That was it! Matt remembered last Christmas. That was when mama decorated everything, and TK had almost strangled himself on the red and green shiny stuff. It was called garlic or something, wasn't it? Matt couldn't remember.  
  
There were Christmas carols, too. Mama had taught them to him. Just like she'd taught him how to play the harmonica. Most people were so suprised when they found out that Matt could play the harmonica at only six years old. But he could, and well. He could sing too. Just like Mama. She'd been a singer before she'd met Dad and gotten married. . .Matt closed his eyes and remembered her voice, a bit low, when she would sing Christmas songs. She said that some of the notes were too high for her, but Matt could sing them. He didn't know what a note was.  
  
Matt finally remembered the song. His mama had sung it to him, telling him that it was about Christ the Lord, and that he was a very special and important man when he grew up. But once he'd been just a little baby boy. Matt thought that it was so neat that before he'd gotten big and done all those great things, like healing people and all that, that he'd been a little baby just like TK. He pictured his little brother in a stable with the horses and grinned.  
  
Carefully, in a trembling voice, Matt started to sing the familiar words, his clogged voice clearing a bit. "Said the night wind to the little lamb. . .do you see what I see? Said the night wind to the little lamb. . .do you see what I see? A star, a star, shimmers in the night with a tail as big as a kite." As Matt sang he tried to imagine a wind telling a little lamb about a giant star. . .he glanced toward the window, but it was so dirty that he couldn't see the stars.  
  
"Said the little lamb to the shepard boy. . .do you hear what I hear? Said the little lamb to the shepard boy. . .do you hear what I hear? A song, a song, far above the trees. . ." Matt trailed off as he found that couldn't remember the words. He sat up, wrapping the blanket around him, shivering now, and hummed the tune, trying to remember the last part.  
  
"Said the shepard boy to the mighty king. . .do you know what I know? In your palace warm mighty king. . ." Matt would give anything right now to be warm. . ."do you know what I know? A child, a child, shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold. . ." Matt couldn't remember any more, and he swallowed a tear that slipped down his face. "Let us bring him silver and gold. . ."  
  


   [1]: mailto:furball1010@cs.com



End file.
